


Secret Ingredient

by Brinchestiel, mrshays



Series: Secrets Verse [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bad Cooking, Crack, Gardens & Gardening, Gen, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 05:01:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16319621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brinchestiel/pseuds/Brinchestiel, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrshays/pseuds/mrshays
Summary: Dean tries his very best to make dinner.A very short crack fic to celebrate Brinchestiel's marvelous DCBB story, In Secret Places.





	Secret Ingredient

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brinchestiel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brinchestiel/gifts).
  * Inspired by [In Secret Places](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16317941) by [Brinchestiel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brinchestiel/pseuds/Brinchestiel). 



> This little slice of heaven is for my main squeeze, Brinchestiel. Thank you for picking me as your beta. Working with you on In Secret Places has brought me so much joy and sparked my creativity. You are the best around.

“We put dirt in there, Dean! C’mon,” Sam exclaimed.  He had followed his nose to the garden shed. It was late afternoon and he and Cas were just thinking about dinner when they were interrupted by the burning smell of cheese coming from the allotment. Dean stood in the middle of the shed, cramped in by the various tools, made smaller by the patio heater he was holding overhead, pitched toward the wheelbarrow.

“What the hell ‘r you idjits doin’ in there?” Bobby had come down from the house to inspect the source of the smell and was straining to see into the shed past Sam’s gangly frame. “Tryin’a burn down this whole damn ‘lot,” he grumbled, shouldering past the two other sane persons to yank the patio heater from Dean’s grasp. Bobby flipped the switch, pulled the cord from the socket by its plug – safety first – and groused his way back to the gate, mumbling that he was  _too old for this horseshit_.

To Dean, he hollered, “Get in the house ‘n fix your boy a real dinner!” The heater clanged to rest on Bobby’s porch, “And clean up that mess!”

“Lasagna _is_ real dinner!” Dean shouted back, scooping par-cooked noodles from the wheelbarrow with his hand and a small trowel. He was very put out.

“Dean, that’s got dirt in it,” Cas started, trying not to offend. He was unsuccessful.

“Shut your damn face and grab a fork, Cas. Christ.”

“It’s not even cooked…” Sam hedged, attempting and failing, to keep his gag reflex at bay.

“What? You never heard of steak tartare?”

“ _You’ve_ never heard of steak tartare.”

“Can it, Sammy! If you’re gonna be like that, you can’t have any.”

Dean turned back to Cas, who had remained silent through the brothers’ argument, handing him a second trowel. Cas took it reluctantly.

“Good! I’m going inside then, to eat _actual food_ ,” Sam said, storming out of the shed to meet Bobby.

In the dimming light of the summer evening, Dean and Cas sat down to their dinner. Cas took a bite for posterity and promptly spat out the gritty noodle, declaring to Dean, “I want the frozen Stouffer’s one instead.”

Dean reluctantly agreed around his own bite but insisted on eating his portion in the shed.

Cas kept him company.

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s the August chat that inspired this story:
> 
> B: I f-ing love domestic Dean it’s like my favourite. I’ll put in a Dean cooking segment just for you. Where you least expect it.  
> M: Oh god, it’s the wheelbarrow, isn’t it? Why?!


End file.
